Fireworks
by Mietta
Summary: One-shot Lizzington, set some time in the future when their relationship is a bit more established. Based off of a prompt again. No angst, just fluff! I figured it was high time I wrote something fluffy. Hopefully it entertains even though I feel like I'm not as good at writing fluff. A brief reference to Chocolate Liqueur, but they aren't linked at all. Have fun reading!


**A/N: Fully disclaimed. This is a story close to my heart. I used to spend summers at this place and it's like my second home. We did exactly what Red and Liz do, and it brings fond memories. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this and it was a good exercise. I haven't really written anything fluffy before now, and it was fun and required some thought at the same time. I hope it brings a smile to your face, because that was the goal :)**

The hot, humid air of a typical North Carolina July day greeted her as she stepped off of the jet. The air smelled salty and tropical, and she breathed deeply in contentment. There was just something so welcoming about it, a comforting feel, like she was in her second home. She had always liked it here, and if she wasn't confined to DC she would probably come here to live. DC was home, but this was her home away from home. It was a nice place to come and get away from it all.

The sleek black car that waited for her reminded her that while she may be escaping from her coworkers and the stress of her job for the weekend, she was not escaping Raymond Reddington. Not that she wanted to, but she couldn't help but smile wryly at the thought of mixing business and pleasure. Wasn't there some rule about such things? Supposedly there was, but in her mind it didn't matter when it came to him. He defined business and pleasure very clearly and never mixed the two when around other people. Acting one way with the task force and another with her was all part of his carefully-crafted persona. She knew that the way he acted around her was the truer version of himself, however, and while she enjoyed their banter at work, she enjoyed the personal man she had come to know much better.

Flying her in on a personal jet and having a car waiting for her would have seemed like some grand romantic gesture if she wasn't used to it by now. It was just something that was normal; a courtesy that he believed should be given without thought. Her bags were stowed in the back, and the driver opened the door for her with a smile. This particular man was a stranger to her, but no doubt he knew exactly how precious his cargo was. She knew she would be well taken care of. It was cool and comfortable in the car, and she leaned back, turning her head towards the window to watch the landscape roll by as they drove to their destination.

It was Independence Day weekend, and the busy atmosphere as they traveled closer to the coast only thickened. Even small beach towns like this one were packed full during such a popular time for a beach getaway. No spaces in nearby hotels, all the beach houses rented out, all the restaurants full to the brim—she had no doubt that weekends like these kept the town funded and running. As they pulled down the residential street, her curiosity peaked when the driver slowed and pulled into a beautiful, rustic beach house with a fully unobstructed view of the water.

_This_ was where he was? Not on some private island of his own? How very…_domestic _of him, she mused with a smile. The house was a light blue, set on stilts and with a pale colored roof. There was a wrap-around porch, with stairs going up into the house from below it, on level with the stilts to allow easy access from the parking space underneath the house. There was also another set of stairs on the side of the house off of the porch, giving an easy way to get to the path leading to the beach. The driver pulled in under the house and quickly jumped out to open the door for her, and as she climbed the stairs and he followed with her bags, she couldn't help a thrill of excitement running through her at the thought of staying here the entire weekend.

It was blissfully cool inside, with an open-room style and pale, beach themed furniture throughout. Pale blues and beige dominated the color scheme, and although it was simple, it was tasteful and elegant. Two bedrooms stemmed off of the main sitting room, and the kitchen to her left was open and spacious. The sliding glass doors to her right led to the deck, and from her vantage point she could see a hint of the ocean below.

A familiar figure leaned on the railing, looking out over the water. With his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, beige colored pants, matching vest, and a straw fedora on his head, Raymond Reddington appeared completely at ease in the beach atmosphere.

A smile spread across her face and after instructing the driver to set her bags by the door before leaving, she stepped outside to join him.

"I think this is a first. Raymond Reddington, looking relaxed and completely at ease just like any other normal person. Fascinating," she commented, and he spun around with a smile.

"Lizzie my dear, there are many things that you don't know about me that I think you would find fascinating. Being relaxed at the beach, however, is not one of them," he replied, stepping closer and invading her personal space as he usually did. "Such an atmosphere lends itself to bringing a sense of peacefulness. The crashing of the waves, the whistling of the sea grass, gulls crying out…" His voice got quieter and more reverent as he talked, a faint smile on his lips as he looked at her. She could tell his mind was wandering to a memory as his green eyes focused on something only he could see.

"Sand in everything that never seems to come out…" she replied playfully in the same thoughtful tone. Her words snapped him out of his reverie and he laughed with a shake of his head, looking at her in delight.

"Why yes, I suppose there is that. Come Lizzie, look at the view I've had the pleasure to enjoy while waiting for you," he offered, and she let him steer her to the railing, his hand on the small of her back. She was very aware of his touch, and he kept his hand there as he gestured to points of interest. The land was flat and one could see for miles, and he had been right about the view: it was lovely.

Sunset Beach stretched for miles in either direction, and the other beach towns to her left and right were easily seen. Ocean Isle was far to her left, while Myrtle Beach was distinctive on the right horizon with a cluster of tall buildings.

"Ocean Isle is a delightful place, but if you really want to go somewhere you'll never be bored, Myrtle Beach is the place to go. You could stay there for a week and not see a fraction of what it has to offer. Worth a visit more than once, but not the sort of place I'd want to frequent for a summer getaway. You feel as if you must run around and do everything, and what's the point of doing that when going to the beach is supposed to be relaxing?" He shook his head and sighed, as if it was seemingly too much effort to try and attempt such a thing.

"What makes this place more suitable?" she asked with a laugh. "More boring?"

He looked at her as if she'd gone daft. "_Boring_? On the contrary, this place is a delightful mix of small town feel with enough things to do to keep one entertained for the duration of their visit. It's far from boring, Lizzie, particularly around this time of the year. You're in for a treat." His eyes sparkled when he said it, and she didn't remember the last time he had looked so happy. Perhaps this trip was about more than getting her away from the increasing pressure of her job. She supposed that even the great Raymond Reddington had to find time to unwind.

No doubt that he had security in place for both of their safety, but she had to admit that she was impressed that it didn't appear to be obvious. Although the one security measure that she did expect to notice was curiously absent.

"Where's Dembe?"

He hesitated before responding, then quickly answered, "Attending to some business" before turning around and going inside.

She found herself following him, and frowned at his vague answer. "Business" could mean anything from transferring money to killing an adversary. There was no way to tell with him. There was also no way to make him answer after such a statement, and she knew if she pushed it, it would only serve to ruin the mood. She wasn't sure if she wanted to know anyway, so she asked a different question.

"Do you own this?"

"This little place? No. An associate of mine was kind enough to offer it to us for the weekend. Do you like it?"

"I do," she replied with a smile, and nodded to where the driver had left her bags. "Right or left?"

"That depends on whether you prefer a view of the ocean or the street. Either could accommodate you, my dear, although I would personally recommend the view of the ocean myself." He went picked the bags up himself, seemingly deciding for her as he placed them in the room on the right side. She made no move to stop him, and couldn't help but notice a small bag already occupying the room on the left. Clearly he had known which she would prefer. As usual, he knew her better than she knew herself sometimes.

Following, she casually leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, and couldn't help the flicker of amusement that crossed her face when he turned around and nearly ran into her. She didn't get the satisfaction of surprising him often, so when she did it was oh-so sweet. He blinked a few times and stepped back, and although he composed himself quickly, it was clear that he was caught off-guard.

"So," she said brightly, tilting her head and giving him a half smile, a movement she had learned from him, "what's on deck for tonight?"

"Now, now, don't you try that move on me, Lizzie; I came up with that look, after all," he admonished with a frown, but his eyes told her he was teasing. "Even you don't have the effect on me that you think you do. If you think you'll be getting any hint of our plans for tonight, you're sorely mistaken."

"Is that so," she mused, and casually flipped her hair behind her shoulder, feeling a thrill of delight when she noticed his expression falter a bit. Perhaps Raymond Reddington wasn't as immune as he claimed to be. "Funny that you think you can hide things from a profiler."

"Ah but you see, if you _know_ a profiler well enough, you know how to get them reading the wrong things, thus misleading them totally." Like a light switch, his expression changed and he gave her one of his knowing smiles. "Better luck next time, Lizzie," he chuckled, and patted her cheek fondly before sweeping past her.

Or he actually _was_. Damn.

"One hour, Lizzie. And put on something _festive_, would you? Black is such a droll color," he commented from the direction of the kitchen, his voice full of distaste.

Scowling, she poked her head around the corner and glared at him.

"You know, instead of insulting my choice of clothing, maybe you could be appreciative that I'm agreeing to even _change_ for you. There is nothing wrong with what I'm wearing," she insisted, and he shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.

"Fine, if you want to get a heat stroke, by all means, stay in those clothes. But I must tell you that you'll be missing out on quite a nice night if I end up having to take you to the hospital."

She groaned and rolled her eyes, turning back to the bedroom and shutting the door. Coming from the man who wore suits even in the summer, he had no room to talk about clothing choices. Still, he had a point. It was hot here, and something lighter would be more comfortable. Not that she was going to give him the satisfaction of telling him he was right. With a sigh, she began to unpack and picked out something nice yet still casual for the evening.

An hour later, she emerged from the bedroom to a quiet, dark house as the sun began to set. Noticing the sliding door was open to the deck, she wandered out, fully expecting him to be sitting on one of the beach chairs with a newspaper and a cigar.

What greeted her was a vastly different scene.

There was a small round table set elaborately with fine dishes and a bottle of white wine chilling, with a young woman that she didn't recognize filling the plates with food. A small candle sat in the middle, giving off light that was gentle enough so as not to take away from the sunset. Reddington stood resting his back against the railing, arms crossed loosely and watching the woman critically.

He noticed her arrival immediately, and she watched as his eyes took her in, his mouth starting to open before he closed it again, appearing to be at a loss for words. She stood there looking at him expectantly, and it took him a moment before he could meet her eyes and smile happily at her.

"Well would you look at that, Felicity; she actually _listened_ for once." He pushed himself off of the railing and gestured to the woman. "Lizzie, Felicity. Felicity, Lizzie. She will be serving us tonight. Felicity is a wonderful cook, Lizzie—best crab cake you will ever taste, or my name isn't Raymond Reddington," he informed her, and she laughed, giving the woman a nod of acknowledgement.

As he settled her in one of the chairs, ever the gentleman, he leaned down and she felt his breath tickle her neck as he spoke.

"You look _ravishing_. Red is definitely your color."

"You told me to wear something festive," she replied with a smirk, looking up at him. "And for the record, I look good in any color, so your flattery will get you nowhere."

"I'm sure," he said, his voice low, and hesitated a moment longer before pulling away and taking his own seat across from her. His proximity had made goosebumps rise on her skin, and even though it was quite warm, she felt herself shiver involuntarily. Damn him, he was better at this game than she was. And from the look he was giving her from across the table, he knew it.

He had been right about one thing: red was her color. She had chosen a red cotton sundress that barely brushed her knees, and had pulled her hair back into a braid. Shoes were optional in her mind, so she had decided to go barefoot. It was probably the least amount of clothing she had worn in a while. Appropriate for such a climate, but she felt quite exposed nonetheless. Particularly since his eyes kept lingering on her, although he was trying very hard not to let her see. Gentleman or no, he was still a man.

Felicity opened the wine then, and poured them each a glass. Liz didn't even bother to look and see what it was; it was doubtful she would recognize the name with his taste for expensive, fine wines. Instead she raised it up with a smile, and they toasted.

"To a weekend full of fascination," he declared, and she looked at him in amusement. Fascination, was it? Taking a sip, she was pleasantly surprised at how much she liked it. Not usually one for fancy wines—why spend so much when the cheap ones from the food store were just as good?—she had to admit that this one was rather good. It probably went very well with their meal, too, knowing him.

Once she had finished dishing out their plates, Felicity left them alone with only each other and the sea birds for company.

"Try the crab cake, Lizzie, before it gets cold. They're delicious, but cold seafood is unappetizing no matter how well it's been prepared," he rambled, and she watched as his face changed to the tell-tale look he got whenever he decided to regale her with a story. "I actually had the rather unpleasant experience of tasting stone-cold rockfish once, and let me tell you, I certainly _do not_ recommend it…"

In between bites, he told her of one of his seemingly never-ending experiences with fish. Between being stung and almost dying, the anecdote of the hideous fish, and this story among others he had told her, his penchant for fishing adventures was painfully obvious. She listened quietly, enjoying watching as his eyes lit up and hands gestured wildly. He was always so animated when he was talking, and it was hard not to be entranced by him. Soon she wasn't even hearing the words he was speaking; she just watched him, more content to do so than she liked to admit sometimes.

The sun slowly sank behind the horizon as they ate, and with the sound of the ocean in the background, the sea breeze blowing across her face, and the increasingly warm feeling she got as the night wore on, peace settled in her heart. This was what life was supposed to be about—taking a vacation, enjoying a dinner at sunset with someone special…yes, it was about the little things. Sometimes simply living was enough to satisfy. Particularly in her case, with her life so chaotic and dangerous, moments like these were rare and should be cherished. She wouldn't give up what her life had become, but it was nice to be able to breathe and take a little time away from it all.

Soon it was dark, and only the stars, full moon, and the small candle served as their light. Once dinner was finished and the bottle of wine almost gone, Red gestured for Felicity to take their plates and ordered that dessert be served immediately.

"Your favorite, Lizzie. I thought it was appropriate, and we had best finish this dinner of ours before the festivities begin," he told her, looking out across to the pier and seeming to gauge something.

"Festivities?" she questioned. "What do—_baklava_?"

Her question was cut off as Felicity placed the dessert in front of her, and she burst out laughing, unable to hide her amusement in any sort of ladylike fashion.

"Red, this is _your_ favorite dessert," she reminded him, and he looked at her with a look of total disbelief on his face.

"I happen to be rather fond of it, yes, but let us not forget that time I had you try it in your office with the chocolate liqueur. I seem to remember how much you enjoyed it."

"Yes, I enjoyed it, but I never remember saying that it was my favorite. I suppose it will do, though," she said loftily, and took a quick bite. The sweetness flooded her mouth and she grinned at him. "Oh yes, quite acceptable."

Her declaration seemed to please him, and he looked like a puppy who had just been rewarded with his favorite toy. The way he tried so hard to win her approval was one of the things she loved about him. He was immune to what everyone else thought of him, but when it came to her…well, it was clear that her opinion was the only one that held any true value in his life. For some reason he greatly respected her, and it was still a bit unbelievable to her at times. The great Raymond Reddington, holding such great respect for a woman like her…it was flattering, to say the least. In all her life she had never come across someone who held her in such high regard. The fact that it was seemingly unwarranted made it all the better. Most of the people who respected her usually wanted something, but he had proven that that was not the case with him, and she in turn respected him for that.

The dessert didn't last very long on either of their plates, and soon he was standing next to her, offering a hand to help her up.

"Felicity will take care of cleaning things up. Lizzie, I want to show you one of the many reasons I adore being at the beach, particularly on a day like today." He escorted her farther down the deck all the way to the corner that hung farthest over the beach, and nodded toward the pier he had been watching earlier. "Keep your eyes on the horizon over the pier, and tell me that what you are about to see isn't exquisite."

He leaned on the railing, hands clasped and eyes watching the sky expectantly. Copying his pose, she found she didn't have to wait long for his words to become real.

_Fireworks_.

They shot up from the pier and blossomed into the sky with beautiful, blinding color. Blues, whites, golds, purples, reds…all of the colors were represented in grand glory. What made it particularly unique, however, was the way they reflected off of the water, and the way they were crystal clear in the great swath of sky. It was clear what he had been referring to, now: fireworks at the beach were like no other. With an unobscured view over the water, it was indeed one of the most beautiful things that she had ever seen.

Looking over at Red, she watched in fascination as his eyes were alight with the wonder of a child at seeing the bright bursts of color flashing before them. It was as if some part of him was a boy again, and he was reliving one of his favorite childhood memories. It was hard to imagine him as innocent, but in that moment she could see a hint of it inside of him.

For some reason, she loved him more in that moment than she believed she ever had.

With a smile, Liz linked her arm through his, took his hand in hers, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Thank you," she whispered.


End file.
